


To Be Of Use

by bitterowl



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:23:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterowl/pseuds/bitterowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff asks Craig to be his friend. Post s6.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Of Use

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warnings: alcohol use, codependency, and vague mentions of past harassment.

"Can I be real with you for a second?"

The change in Jeff's mood was sudden. One minute, Jeff had been laughing about some snide comment Craig had made. The next he stared into his drink, as though he were afraid to meet Craig's eye.

Craig's brows knitted together, taken aback by the strange request. Even as Craig watched him, Jeff seemed to deflate, the jovial sarcasm draining away, leaving Jeff looking hesitant and exhausted, his wide shoulders hunched and his jaw set. Good lord, he looked positively _haunted_.

It was enough to make Craig's insides feel sick and fluttery as he tried his hardest to not jump to conclusions, either good or bad. Jeff had a way of making big deals out of small things, and small deals out of big things, and it always left Craig unsure of what was really going on in Jeff's head. He had usually saved these moments of intimacy and vulnerability for other people—people who weren't Craig.

Maybe it was just the dim lighting of the bar that made the moment seem so grave, but anticipation crept up on him nonetheless.

"Yes, of course," he said, shakily, when he realized he hadn't replied yet. To drive the sincerity home, he cocked his head with concern, although the concern was mostly for himself.

When Jeff chewed over his thoughts, not speaking immediately, it made Craig want to reach across the table and shake him. Instead, he just fidgeted with his drink, attention rapt, waiting for Jeff to do anything other than sit there and look so miserable.

Finally, Jeff let out a sigh. "Listen, I'm not telling you to change your feelings about me, but," Jeff began, still not looking up, "do you think we could just be friends?"

The earnestness with which he spoke was enough to make Craig's chest ache. Even though he thought he'd grown used to the rejection—to the point that he'd come to expect it—hearing it spoken so plainly and with such feeling behind was worse than a thousand sneers and grimaces. There was no exasperation in his request, no disgust with Craig's feelings, just simple, withering vulnerability.

It dried up the words in Craig's mouth, his mind supplying him with a single, helpless, _Oh_.

"I just," Jeff continued when Craig didn't respond, then paused, like he was trying to choose his words more carefully. "I don't have a lot of people left in my life right now. Pierce died, then Troy left, then Shirley, Duncan...and now Abed and Annie are gone. That's—jesus— _six_ people in two years."

Craig bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to nod. He silently prayed that his face looked compassionate and not utterly devastated, even though Jeff was still staring into the depths of his scotch. Mostly, he didn't trust himself to speak, knowing he would say something stupid or insensitive if he opened his mouth, like, _What about how I feel?_ or _Please, please don't ask this of me._

"Sorry, I just..." Jeff said, finally looking up at him, meeting his gaze. How dare he look so apologetic. "I need you to be my friend right now, without it being weird."

Craig swallowed thickly, wondering if Jeff's eyes had always been that blue.

Trying his damnedest not to cry, he nodded. This wasn't the time to make this about him, as much as he wanted to.

"It's okay," he said, even though it wasn't, not really. "I'm sorry if I've been a less-than-stellar friend."He extended his hand to touch Jeff's arm, but, remembering himself, pulled it back.

Jeff gave him a small, crooked smile, but it just made Craig feel like nobody so strong and handsome and perfect should ever look so unhappy.

"If it makes you feel any better," Jeff said, his smile turning sheepish, "I said basically the same thing to Britta."

Craig laughed, in spite of himself. He wasn't sure if it made him feel any better or worse that he wasn't the only one on the receiving-end of this request. Maybe better. "How did she take it?"

Jeff cracked a real grin this time, shaking his head. "She kicked me out of her and Chang's apartment," he said, then frowned. "And then Chang took me aside and asked if it applied to him, too, since I guess he's 'legit gay now?' His words, not mine."

"Well, I certainly hope you let him down gently," Craig said, unable to suppress a wry smirk. "The molten sexual tension between the two of you deserves at least _some_ ;closure."

"Christ," Jeff said, laughing. The sound of it made Craig want to honestly die, but he tamped those feelings down to be processed later. "Yeah, also, I don't want to get on his bad side ever again. Windshields are expensive."

_So is therapy after getting kidnapped for three months_ , Craig almost replied, but then decided it was too gauche.

"Just be patient with him," he said instead. "He'll get over it once he realizes that you're incurably straight."

"Like you did?" Jeff asked with a smirk, the look in his eyes unplaceable.

Well, now, that just wasn't fair.

"Excuse you, I'm much better now," Craig said, not really having to feign being indignant. "You may be incurably straight, but I'm an incurable optimist and handsy as hell. Believe me, trying to remain appropriate and professional with you has been an uphill battle."

Jeff just shrugged, smiling and raising his eyebrows; he preened a little under the compliment, which was also just plain not fair.

Jeff's request—as much as Craig could understand, _god_ , could he understand—would have been so much easier if, over the last semester, Craig hadn't managed to crack the code of getting Jeff's positive attention. Being forced to deal with each other on a more professional level had taught Craig two things about Jeff—that sarcasm and flattery got you _everywhere_ , and that Jeff was weirdly receptive to Craig's flirtations when they were peppered with snide remarks about others and casual adulation.

Of course, _now_ was the time that Jeff chose to give Craig a heartfelt request that he waste this priceless information, especially with Jeff suddenly _needing_ him so much. It wasn't _fair_.

However, as much as Craig hated to imagine a world where Jeff might never reciprocate his feelings, he couldn't help but think that maybe being just friends was enough—for now, at least. Jeff cared about him. That last semester—the shared jokes and shared experiences, the easy banter, the entire situation with the school board, then Willy, then Lapari—was enough to prove that Jeff considered Craig a part of his life now, even if he didn't think about him as more than just a friend.

But he _was_ a friend and Jeff loved his friends.

It hurt, but it was was a good hurt, or, at least, a useful hurt—the kind you felt when putting peroxide on a cut, or like stretching out a leg that's fallen asleep. It was the kind of hurt you felt when you knew things were definitely worse before you subjected yourself to it, and that they'd probably, eventually, feel better, even if it sucked in the moment.

"But yeah," Jeff said, shaking Craig out of his thoughts. "Thanks. Seriously, I'm glad you're here. I know this makes me sound like an asshole, but honestly, just knowing that you're stuck here, the same as me, is helping more than anything else is right now."

Craig looked down at his drink. _Ouch_.

He resisted the urge to beg Jeff to reconsider—to tell him that he'd never, ever, leave him, and he'd do whatever he wanted, just as long as Jeff promised to love Craig the same way Craig loved him, or even just a fraction of that. Craig didn't even care if he lied, just as long as he said it and sounded like he meant it.

It made him feel selfish and hungry and terrible, but mostly it made him feel sad.

Jeff was drowning, but he had accepted the fact that Craig was going down with him. It almost seemed like he was comforted by it, even if Craig probably had a hand in pulling him down and keeping his head underwater; it was hard to tell where the helping ended and the enabling began. He'd given Jeff a job, which he sucked at, his friendship, which was complicated, and, in that, a reason for Jeff to need him.

God, that was fucked up, but he wouldn't have changed anything if it meant Jeff could be a part of his life for even a little longer. If Craig had learned anything in his forty-three years of being alive, though, that feeling was what being a social creature was all about—holding onto others until you couldn't anymore, clinging to those who cling back, hoping you don't die alone, and hoping you could be of some use to the people who might remember you.

If anything, Craig had made certain that Jeff wouldn't forget about him. The thought made him smile.

Honestly, he could live with that.

"I'm just glad I can help," he said, and meant it.


End file.
